Little Sister
by RingwraithYJLOVER
Summary: The reunion of Jason and Rickie, mentioned in my Fem!Nightwing story. Can be read as a standalone. Jason's walking into a trap. He knows that. He didn't plan on Nightwing getting caught with him. He certainly didn't expect what happened after that. Rated T for safety. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**This is the reunion of Jason and Rickie that is mentioned in Shadows In The Night.**

 **On with the two-shot!**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.**

* * *

The night started out normal. Or as normal as a night for Red Hood can get. A couple of gangs decided he was annoying, and taking their drug business, so they sent their men after him, tricking him with a fake drop at an abandoned warehouse. In Bludhaven.

Or at least they had tried to trick him.

Why had Jason agreed to go? He had a nagging feeling it had to do with the city's protector, Nightwing, who he hadn't seen for . . . Oh, five or so years (she'd be twenty-two now). Nope, it had nothing to do with Jason's curiosity about what she had done to get exiled from the sidekick squad (he only knew vague details; he wanted to know her side).

Nothing at all. If he ran into Nightwing, than it would be a surprise fight that he hadn't planned on having that night. Jason ignored the slight feeling of nervousness, ordering himself to man up. Nightwing was just a woman, not a super. Granted, a highly trained woman . . . who was once his sister in everything but blood . . . and would kick his a** for the 'just a woman' comment . . .

Jason told his inner voice to shut up as he decided to concentrate on the warehouse - trap - he was walking into.

The warehouse was in disrepair, and the cement floors were covered in various stains that Jason did not want to know the source of. The smell was musty, and wet. That made sense, since this warehouse was near the harbor.

Jason was expecting for men to jump out behind old equipment, including broken bulldozers, and rusty golf carts. They didn't disappoint. The off-task part of Jason wondered why there were here, but he couldn't focus on that right now. More men came in from the warehouse entrance, and Jason did a quick head count, losing after thirty or so.

 _Good,_ Jason thought. _They don't stand a chance._

"Well?" Jason challenged them, his stance radiating arrogance. His tone was cocky. "Are you gonna stand there looking even stupider than normal, or are you gonna attempt to beat me up?"

Not to his usual standard, there wasn't even any cursing in it, but it'd have to do. And it did, as the first man came swinging at Red Hood with a baseball bat. _At least it wasn't an effing crowbar_ , Jason thought to himself.

He neatly sidestepped, sticking out his foot to send the thug sprawling on the floor. If Jason was honest with himself, he expected something like this to happen, and since he was itching for a good fight, Jason came, thinking, _to hell with it._

More men came it him, and one man had the guts to sprint at Red Hood carrying a knife. Jason could tell the man didn't have a clue how to use it, though. Training with a knife had taught him how to recognize who knew how to use one.

Jason slammed his fist into the guys face, blood flying as he knocked out a tooth, before swiftly kicking the next man. He grabbed the arm of the man who was rushing at him from the side, and flipped him. Before he did that, Jason felt a pinch on the weak spot of his armor, right at the elbow.

A needle. They injected something in him. His movements became a little sluggish, darkness tugging at the corners of his vision. He just came to the conclusion that they really did their homework, it was stupid of him not to use his guns, he was going to die _again_ , when a figure dressed in a dark bodysuit just dropped from the ceiling and started kicking ass.

Wait, what?

Jason didn't have time to figure it out before he passed out.

* * *

He woke up to a bucket of water being thrown on his face. Coughing, spluttering, and cursing, Jason glared through blurry vision at the man standing in front of him. Black Mask. Vaguely, Jason wondered why he was here, unless . . . Black Mask hired the gangs. Dang it.

Jason did a mental assessment of his injuries, and decided the only thing damaged was his head, his pride, and the various places over his body where there was a bruise.

His vision was too blurry and the pounding of his head too painful to focus on his surroundings other than the blurry figure of Black Mask. It was kind of easy, since Black Mask was wearing a white suit with a, well, a black mask that looked like a skull.

"You," Jason didn't bother finishing his sentence. "Why'd you do it? I finally piss you off so much you went over the edge?"

Black mask chuckled, amused that he was figuring this out now.

"You know," Black Mask began, "I expected the fearsome Red Hood to have figured it out sooner. That girl figured it out sooner, and she came to warn you, or save you. Either way, my plans would have been made . . . invalid, had she arrived in time."

"Girl?" Jason stared blankly. Then he remembered the figure in the dark body suit.

"Yes, the girl. She was quite stubborn about giving up information. The information we did get, about her coming to warn you, is useless, but she does not seem capable of telling us more than that. So, to make sure we didn't kill her before we were done with her, we put her back in with you." Black Mask shrugged, like putting random girls in cells with the Red Hood was normal.

A coughing fit from across the cellar room. Jason's eyes flew towards the sound, and his mouth dropped. Nightwing. That was who the girl was. She was sitting with her back to the wall, and if the slits of white were anything to go by, her eyes were barely open. Jason went numb with shock. Mixed emotions flooded through him.

What was she doing here?

"Ah, I see you see the girl. Or should I say Nightwing? She has not been seen for quite a while, and to any of us who have been around long enough to try to remember, her return is not a welcome one. She has been, ah, forgotten by you hero types," Red Hood wanted to argue he wasn't a hero, "and criminals as well. Most believe she doesn't exist, and any who do know she exists knows she is an annoying pest," Black Mask spoke calmly, a note of authority in his voice. "Am I right, girl?"

Red Hood found himself vaguely annoyed Black Mask was telling some things he already knew, but Black Mask didn't know he knew Nightwing.

She didn't answer, and ended up curling into a ball on the floor. Black Mask delivered a vicious kick to her ribs, and Jason felt a surge of red hot rage go through him. He tried to move, but his hands were bound together behind his back, tied through a loop in the wall, and his legs from the knee down were tied together.

How had he not noticed that? Did they drug him, or something? Jason didn't feel drugged right now, other than the after effects of whatever they knocked him out with. Maybe he had a bad concussion. Dam. He hated concussions.

Black Mask raised an eyebrow, "Sensitive, aren't you? Unfortunately, the girl will be going in two days. Some find her more of a pest than others, and that includes a rather pissed off crime lord in Bludhaven."

The blood drained from Rickie's face. It was clear that she knew exactly who he was talking about.

Black Mask looked at Jason critically, and reached to take off his mask. Jason struggled, but his hands were bound to tightly.

"There," He said, "Now we'll be able to see your reactions."

Black Mask left with a victorious smirk on his face.

It was awhile before either of them spoke. Nightwing made the first move.

"Jaybird," She whispered, her voice hoarse. Jason went still at the nickname.

He felt like a little kid again.

Nightwing knew it had been a stupid choice on her part to go after Jason, but she couldn't just let him get killed. Through some of her contacts in Bludhaven, she found out about the meeting between the Red Hood, and Black Mask's goons.

Nightwing knew who Red Hood was, and knew of the rumors that it was a set up. She figured it was a set up also , and Jason being Jason, he knew that as well, but would go anyway and wing it from there. Heh, bad pun.

She went after Jason, because Nightwing guessed that if Black Mask was as pissed at Red Hood as the rumors in the Haven underground say, then he'd at least take some precautions with arming his men against Red Hood.

Unfortunately for her, being prepared for Jason meant they were somewhat prepared for her. Plus, she was sick. Miserably so. All her reactions were dulled. A goon had gotten a luck shot in with a needle-filled drug, and another had gotten a lucky shot in with their gun. She had crumpled, and a man took the opportunity to slam a crowbar into her gut, before she got kicked in the head.

After that, it was like she became everyone's punching bag. She tried to protect her head and face, not wanting to receive any fatal, or any further injuries to her head. Nightwing already had a massive head ache from the kick, and slamming her head into the ground.

She fell unconscious, and during that time both she and Jason were taken to Black Mask. She guessed they were at some hidden building halfway between Bludhaven and Gotham. Black Mask had seen fit to string her up like a punching bag, and ask her why she knew what was going on at the warehouse.

When she wouldn't talk, they said they'd torture Red Hood for answers. That made her panic. Nightwing couldn't let that happen to Jason, her little brother (though it had been years). Jason-Red Hood-didn't know anything. She stumbled out a lame answer, and after that they dragged her by her arm back into a cell with Red Hood.

Nightwing blacked out when she hit the floor until she awoke a short while ago when Black Mask paid a visit to them.

Apparently, she was going to Roland Desmond in two days. Ol' Blocky must be happy about that. She, however, had very different feelings about that. Desmond would kill her, no doubt about it. Jason looked relatively unharmed, but Nightwing was another story.

She had a few broken and bruised ribs, her head hurt like hell, her wrist felt sprained, she was pretty sure her ankle was badly twisted or broken, and bruises were all over her body. Cuts were, too, not to mention the gunshot wound on her side that someone had sloppily bandaged.

Nightwing wasn't sure if they had even taken the bullet out. Which was very dangerous. A bullet in her could lead to internal bleeding, and internal bleeding could lead to death. If sat up to go to Jason, she could die.

Nightwing took a risk, deciding she had nothing to lose. She hadn't seen Jason for five, almost six years, since she was seventeen. Joker had killed Jason when he was fourteen. She still remembered that day. It was one she would never forget.

Carefully, she sat up. Taking a shaky breath, she opened her eyes, and saw Jason chained across the room. They had clearly decided she was too injured to be much of a threat. Ha. Big mistake, though in her current condition they might be right. Oh well, she'd had worse and gotten out of worse with worse.

Wait - that just made no sense. Or did it?

. . . Maybe she hit her head harder than she realized.

Opening her eyes, she realized just how much trouble she was in as she looked around. Jason was tied up across from her. They were in what looked like a concrete cellar. There were no windows. Jason's head was hanging down, but she had a feeling he was awake.

Carefully, Nightwing sat further up, wincing at the bolt of red hot pain that went through her. She worked on evening out her breathing, remaining completely still for a few moments, then sitting further up again.

Then painfully, she dragged herself across the room towards where Jason was. Nightwing was intensely aware of how her every movement may or may not affect the bullet that may or may not be in her. But she had to reach Jason.

She hadn't seen him for almost five years. If she died today, then she would at least hug her estranged little brother one last time. She bit back a pained grunt as she reached Jason. He made no sign to acknowledge her presence.

His helmet was off, even though the rest of his Red Hood gear was on, minus the weapons. Her weapons, and her belt were gone, too. She curled up on her side again, and laid her head on Jason's lap. With her injuries, it wasn't the easiest position to get into, but she made it work.

Jason sat with his back to the wall, and there were no visible injuries on him other than the lump at his temple, along with some wicked bruises on his face. He was her brother, no matter how much he hated her, and she had a right to use him as a pillow. It helped that he was semi-asleep.

To her surprise, Jason let her lay her head in his lap. She felt him stiffen, then relax. She lay in a half asleep state, knowing that if she fell asleep she may not wake up.

Jason was aware of a person's head in his lap. Initially, he had stiffened, but then he relaxed, enjoying the comfort that another person was alive in this place. A peaceful feeling went through him. The coughing fit the person in his lap caused Jason to crack an eye open, startled.

Belatedly, he realized the person curled up next to him was Rickie.

Nightwing was shaking. She mumbled a few words, and her face was flushed, as if she had a fever. She looked a little pale, like she was sick. A few strands of dark hair floated in front of her face, and her black hair was in a messy pony tail. Blood was dried at her hairline, dirt smudged her face.

She cradled her wrist to her chest, and Jason was positive it was injured. Unfortunately, her body was turned away from him, so he wouldn't be able to check her wrist. He debated on what to say, seeing her half-lidded eyes.

Eventually, Jason just barely managed to painfully twist his arm out of its restraint (he tried and failed to free his other arm), and looped it around her, hugging her instead of saying anything. He was a bit shocked at his actions. Why was he hugging her? And then he noticed the peaceful expression on her face. It was completely relaxed. Her mouth was slightly agape, and Jason could hear her take a few shaky breaths.

She was so tiny compared to him. She seemed so fragile. Jason remembered the days when Rickie was a head taller than him. She wasn't anymore. He was taller than her, and it was strange for a person who had always called him little brother, always hugged him and pinched his cheeks, to be shorter than him.

An ache went through him as Jason thought about how much time he had missed with her. It had been years since he'd last seen her. Since before he died, actually. And that wasn't exactly his fondest memory, because she had been sick when Jason snuck off after Batman.

He had lied to her, and with Rickie being drugged up on cold medicine, she didn't bother questioning him. His last memory was of her hugging him, mumbling at him to stay safe, then falling back asleep on the couch. Jason had died later when the Joker had caught him. So much for staying safe. Jason closed his eyes.

Batman never got the chance to ground Jason for sneaking off after him. Rickie had never gotten the chance to yell at Jason for lying (probably coughing as she yelled). The realization slammed into Jason like a brick in a face.

Or maybe that was more like the second bucket of water that Black Mask, entering the room, had thrown in his face. Jason opened his eyes, the whites of his domino mask widening in miniscule surprise, before going back to normal.

With a scowl, he decided that the whole 'bucket-of-water' in the face thing was getting old. Another was a note to self: do not get lost in thoughts when held prisoner by a rival drug lord. Both of those things were anything a person with common sense would know. Jason never did have much of that, though. Lucky him.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Black Mask sneered. "Is the Red Hood and Nightwing dating? How . . . cute. Never pegged you as one for forbidden romance, Red Hood."

Red Hood's scowl deepened, and his look of disgust must have shown, because Black Mask just smirked. He looked at Nightwing, surveying her, and then surveying Red Hood. Jason's teeth clenched. Something about dating Rickie just felt . . . wrong. Dating his sister? Ew. They may not be blood related, but she was still his sister.

His _little_ sister, Jason thought with an internal smirk. Time to get payback for all the years of being called little brother. Jason was slightly distracted as, unbidden, memories of the pranks Rickie played on him surfaced. He tried to focus on Black Mask, who was handing a bucket to a goon outside the door, but it was hard.

Once again, Red Hood paid a price for his inattentiveness. He was brought out of his thoughts when Black Mask yanked Nightwing up by her wrist. She stifled a scream, falling onto the floor as Black Mask basically held her up by her wrist. She reached up to pry his hand off, but her arm fell short, and a pained grimaced made its way onto her face.

A red haze came over Jason's vision.

With a jolt, Jason realized it was the injured wrist she had been holding earlier. Frantically, his eyes darted around, looking for anything, anyway to escape. His hands moved desperately, and Red Hood tried to think if there was any lock picks that they missed when searching him.

He couldn't find anything, so Jason chose to shout at Black Mask instead. "Leave her alone! Put her down!" Each command was more useless than the first. Desperate to stop Black Mask (who was now dragging Rickie to the door), Jason blurted out, "What are you doing with my sister?"

As soon as he said the words, he knew that made a huge mistake. He wished he could take back the words that had come out of his mouth. He hadn't meant to call her . . . Black Mask turned around slowly, looking at Jason with a calculating look. He dropped Nightwing like a sack of potatoes by the door.

"Sister?" Black Mask asked, intrigued. There was a menacing undertone to his voice that Red Hood immediately did not like.

He tried to take it back. He needed to, for both their sakes.

"Was that what you heard me say? Are you going deaf, Black Mask?" Red Hood asked with his usual attitude. Granted, it was a little toned down. No curse words or death threats in it.

Black Mask wasn't convinced. "Nice try, Red, but I believe I heard you call her sister. How . . . interesting."

A cold, sick feeling of dread began to settle in Jason's stomach. His eyes found Nightwing, who was huddled against the doorway. She coughed again, and took some more rattling breaths. Black Mask walked over to her. He was well aware of the power given to him by Jason's words. Jason had just given Black Mask leverage to use against him.

"Did you hear that, girl?" Black Mask asked her quietly. She didn't respond. "Sister, huh? You know, I was thinking of givin' you to ole Buster a day early, but with this bit of information . . ."

Black Mask rubbed his chin, and Red Hood knew he was weighing the pros and cons of not giving Rickie to whoever ole Buster was. A cold, triumphant smile wormed its way onto Black Mask's face, and he knew that the choice had been made. Jason had a feeling that it was not one he would like.

Black Mask nodded to himself. "Well, you're in luck, Nightwing. You get to spend some time with me, and my crew."

Jason was filled with horror, but it was replaced by rage. He started yelling again.

Rickie didn't have a clue what was going on. She could only hear bits and pieces of Jason's conversation with Black Mask, and then the iron grip on her poor wrist was back, and she howled at the unexpected pain, her face twisting in agony. Can't a hostage get a moment's peace around here?

She heard Red Hood yell at Black Mask to put her down, but she only heard a dark chuckle to her right. Nightwing, even in her battered state, quickly realized that his left hand was holding her right one. She could do nothing with that information that her brain had supplied however, as her wrist felt like someone was sticking it in a fire.

It burned. And it hurt. A lot.

Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, and her good hand her flew up instinctually to claw at the thing that was causing her more pain. Before, the pain in her wrist was a dual throb, but now, as stated earlier, it felt like it was on fire.

She felt her self being dragged on the floor, and then it felt like the rest of her injuries were on fire, too. She coughed, trying to get rid of the wet, burning feeling in her throat that was causing more tears to appear in her eyes. Not that anyone could see them through her mask.

Then the grip on her wrist abruptly loosened. She fell to the floor, choking, and spluttering, and her head landed by someone's feet. The feet were small, and wearing black combat boots. Nightwing, through the haze in her mind, slowly started to realize who the owner of the feet was.

Black Mask shouted in surprise, but Red Hood seemed to have fallen into a shocked silence.

She heard a familiar snotty voice say, "I do not care for that idiot known as Red Hood, Black Mask, but I believe you have overstepped your boundaries when it comes to Nightwing. Your territory is in Gotham, no? And Nightwing is a Bludhaven vigilante. I'm afraid that I must escort this imbecile to a nearby medical facility, and unfortunately I must take the idiot known as Red Hood to accompany me."

There was a shout of anger from Black Mask, and then a crunching noise, along with a thud. Nightwing guessed that Damian had punched Black Mask's lights out. White spots danced in front of her eyes, and she knew she'd end up passing out soon. Hopefully, she would wake up.

All the hits she took to the head cannot have been good for her concussion that she likely has. And passing out or sleeping with a concussion . . . Neither of those were smart choices. She breathed, her breath short. It was getting harder to stay awake.

Her eyelids were drooping, and she could feel herself slipping into unconsciousness. She fought to stay awake, but blackness overtook her vision. Nightwing's last thought was that at least she got to miss the lecture about how reckless she was.

* * *

 **Second half should be up soon. Review, please. Let me know what you think.**


	2. A Little Talk

**Part two.**

 **On with the two-shot!**

 **DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.**

* * *

Jason's feet thudded on the stone floor as he rushed to wear Rickie was. He could hear Damian scoff mockingly, but to his surprise the brat was right on his heels. Checking her pulse, his shoulders only relaxed a tiny fraction as he felt one.

She was pale, and unconscious. Red Hood and Damian had to get her medical attention. Maybe some of her injuries wouldn't be so worry some on their own, but together? They were a combination for disaster.

Jason gently picked her up bridal style. Damian grumbled about it, but no way could he carry her.

"What did you use to get here, Hell Spawn? And why are you here?" Jason asked Damian.

"That doesn't matter right now," Damian snapped. "And follow me, you imbecile. I got here on Nightwing's motorcycle. Since there are were two of us, now three with the addition of you, I sent the motorcycle back, and intended to take one of the vans parked out front."

"Fine." Jason reluctantly agreed. He followed Damian out of their prison, into a hallway, and up some stairs.

The little brat wore some weird white Kevlar bodysuit. The top half was white, the bottom half black, and with it he had some wicked looking combat boots. They came out into what looked like a home under construction, ply wood, nails, and construction tools everywhere.

"Did you take out the hired help?" Jason asked gruffly.

Damian rolled his eyes, though Jason could not see his eyes. They were hidden by what looked to be one of Nightwing's domino masks.

"Of course," Damian replied. "Did you take me for a reckless idiot?"

Jason cocked his head to the side curiously. "Did you kill them?"

Damian glanced at Rickie. He muttered, "I wish I had."

Jason wondered what the hell that meant.

Red Hood choose to remain silent, not in the mood to get into a fight with the demon while holding Rickie's unconscious body. Part of him was tempted to put Rickie down, go back, and put a few bullets in Black Mask, but she needed medical assistance.

. . . And he didn't have his guns. Speaking of which,

"Hey," Jason asked Damian, "Did you find . . . ?"

Damian rolled his eyes, again. "Yes, T - Red Hood, I found both of your equipment and loaded into a van."

They got out front, and Jason saw they were surrounded by woods. Two silver mini-vans were parked out front, and Damian headed to the one parked on the furthest right. Their feet crunched on the gravel, and Red Hood looked around warily.

He didn't completely trust Damian's claim that he had gotten everyone.

It was night, and a thug could have run and hidden in the trees . . . Though with Damian being a little hell spawn, Jason doubts any of them got away. As he looked around, Jason saw a group of fifteen henchmen tied up unconscious, hidden in the shadow of the trees.

They were beaten and bloody, but alive. Jason could see some of the pained expressions on their faces from this far away, grimacing in their unconscious state.

"Hurry up, Todd." Damian demanded impatiently.

Jason remembered Rickie, and he internally cursed himself. She was deadweight in his arms, but that didn't stop her blood from getting on what remained of his uniform. He hurried over as fast as he could without dropping her. He grit his teeth as he stepped on the gravel. Walking barefoot on gravel was never a pleasant experience.

Instead, Jason looked at Rickie's face. She was almost deathly pale. There was blood at her hairline. Well. That wasn't good. Jason could feel the weight of his own injuries pressing in on him, but unlike Nightwing, Red Hood hadn't been used as a punching bag.

They got in the van. Jason gently laid Rickie in the back, the seats had been put down. His toe nudged something, and Jason saw a pile of their gear. He pulled on his boots, his belt, and his guns _(Yes! Now he can shoot them!),_ while pulling off his mask. No sense in getting busted by traffic cameras.

Jason had a weird mental image of some random traffic cop doing a spit take when he saw the Red Hood in a mini-van with a strange kid, and a half dead Nightwing.

Damian took off his own mask, and made to sit up front.

"Oh no you don't," Jason said as he beat Damian to the front seat. "I'm driving."

Damian made a displeased noise, and sat in the back with Rickie. He noticed that he didn't seem too displeased about that, and caught a glimpse of a concerned look that Damian shot her. Noticing his stare, Damian glared at him with a look that told him to start driving, or else.

Jason hit the gas.

* * *

Hours later, sitting on the couch in the Nest, Jason ran a hand through his hair. His right, pure white bang fell onto his forehead, while his black one on the left stuck up in an odd angle. The rest of his hair also stuck up at odd angles, and his eyes were bloodshot from exhaustion.

Damian had left (reluctantly) ages ago (thankfully disposing of the van), but demanded to be told updates on Rickie's condition. He said it was under the excuse of making sure that all of the effort he put into saving her wasn't wasted, but he couldn't fool Jason, who had given him a communicator to give Damian updates. After all, Jason himself knew how Rickie could worm her way into your heart.

Heck, she managed to worm her way into Batman's heart.

He sighed, and looked at Rickie. She was laying on a metal table, and a kit of medical supplies was on a metal cart next to her. Damian had wrapped her sprained wrist, and the brat had handed Jason a roll of gauze for the head wound. Jason just wrapped his head, took some pain killers, and helped patch up Rickie.

He wrapped her ankle, cleaned the blood off her forehead, put an icepack on it, then hooked an IV full of fluids and other junk Jason only vaguely knew she needed. He pulled off the makeshift bandage on her stomach, scowling as he saw the sloppy stitches.

Jason learned how to stitch them himself while fighting crime on his own. He knew what crappy stitches could do. He fixed them, making sure to poke around for the bullet. Thankfully, it had been removed, and some of the tension he hadn't known had been in his shoulders disappeared.

After redressing her gunshot wound, all that was left was cleaning up the blood, and putting her uniform in her washing machine. While patching her up, they had taken it off. Fortunately for both Damian and Jason's sakes, Rickie always wore leggings, and a sports bra underneath her uniform. It was what she trained in, sometimes. Or at least used to before Jason died.

A lot of things had changed while he was dead. A lot of people had changed, too.

Jason was immensely grateful she wore something under her costume; no brother should ever have to see their sister naked. Wait, did he just call Damian his brother, too? . . . He decided to pretend he never thought that.

Yawning, Jason stretched back in his chair. He was still in his Red Hood uniform. He should probably go, yet he was reluctant to leave. Instead, he laid his head down on the metal table, crossing his arms and using them as a pillow. Maybe he'll stay a few more minutes . . . After all, he couldn't leave Rickie here alone. He didn't have any place he needed to be.

Jason closed his eyes, and gave in to sleep.

* * *

When Rickie awoke, she was aware she was on one of the metal tables in her makeshift med-bay. It was basically five metal tables tucked in a corner of the Nest. Then tucked in some cabinets were the basic medical supplies she needed as a lone crime fighter. If it was anything really serious, she called Leslie, and Leslie then took a zeta here.

The next thing she was aware of? She wasn't in her costume, only a sports bra and leggings, and there was someone next to her, judging by the weight on her arm. Blinking at the bright light of the Nest, she struggled to recall what happened. Rickie nearly sat bolt upright as her memory came back.

The pain hit her, but it was dulled by the painkillers. Her head was pounding, and she moved her arm to put her hand to her temple, but there was that weight.

Turning her head, she was shocked. Jason was there, and he was sleeping. There was a bandage around his head, and he was still in his costume, although it was a bit dirty, and bloodstained. She flinched as she remembered everything. Why did she always manage to land herself in a mess?

Jason was sitting in a chair, and his Red Hood helmet lay on the floor.

"J-Jason?" She asked hoarsely. Rickie cleared her throat.

He stirred, and she saw his face. No longer that of a boy, but not quite a man. He stared at her for a minute.

"Good. You're up." Jason said bluntly. No real emotion was in his voice, but she could see the relief in his eyes.

Cracking a smile, she said, "Well, not quite. I'm still lying down, aren't I?"

Jason rolled his eyes. "You know what I meant."

Rickie just chuckled. Noticing Jason yawn, she frowned. "You didn't have to stay with me."

"Someone had to make sure you didn't die, and the demon brat had to leave." Jason said, defending his decision. He didn't need to explain why he stayed! Changing the subject, he asked, "What's up with you and him anyways?"

Rickie decided she'd cut Jason some slack, and ignore the subject change. They haven't had the chance to talk like this for years.

"Damian?" Rickie frowned thoughtfully. "He's been coming by my place on Wednesdays for the past year and a half or so."

Jason scowled at the unexpected twinge of jealously, and another twinge of guilt that Damian, a kid, found a way to see Rickie, while Jason, a legal adult, couldn't. Or rather, wouldn't.

Rickie saw the scowl. Smiling slightly to herself, she patted Jason on the head, ruffling his hair. "Don't worry, you're still my little brother, too. Damian didn't replace you."

Jason gaped at Rickie in disbelief. He was the freakin' Red Hood! Not some jealous five-year-old! _(Internally, Jason cursed the small part of him that relaxed at her reassurances)_.

He scowled at the word 'replace', however. "Yeah, that's because that little shit Timothy Drake did that."

Jason regretted the words the moment he saw the hurt that filled her blue eyes. Guilt flitted through him, but he dismissed it.

"Tim didn't replace you," She chastised him. "And don't be so hard on him. He's been through a lot. And just like you and Damian, he's my brother, too."

"Some brother he is." Jason frowned, unable to stop his words. "From what I heard, you haven't seen him in years."

"And that's my own fault." Rickie said calmly, not reacting to his words. "I messed up."

She was tired, but she had to finish this conversation. She couldn't nod off in the middle of it to go rest.

"Well, Replacement's no brother of mine." Jason scowled furiously at how easily Bruce found another Robin after he died.

He thought . . . He thought that Bruce would care enough to not give anyone else that rule, and end the Joker for good. Rickie just smiled sadly, and her blue eyes gave Jason the uncomfortable feeling she was reading his mind. She just patted his cheek lazily, and he saw her eyes drooping as she yawned. Her wrist felt tightly wrapped in some med cloth for sprains. She hoped it would heal enough in time for the police bust next week.

"Some day," Rickie murmured. "Some day."

Before Jason could ask what she meant, Rickie quietly said, "You don't have to stay with me. If you want it, your old room's still there. Bye, Jaybird."

Jason watched her fall asleep. That was it. It was official, she was impossible to argue with. You just . . . can't argue with her, and if you do, you lose. He watched her for a moment, and saw that she was really asleep. Sighing, he stood up, and stretched, yawning. He needed to head back to his crappy apartment, maybe drink a beer or two. Anything to forget this weird fiasco.

Jason made his way to the door to go through the hallway that led to the zeta, but he paused at the door. He glanced at Rickie, before his eyes flicked to the door across the Nest that had stairs that led to street level. Making a split second decision, Jason walked towards it.

* * *

He paused outside the door to his room.

It still had the posters of his favorite bands on it. 'JASON' was on the door in black block letters. Jason took a deep breath, before grabbing the door knob and opening the door. The inside made him freeze. He expected cardboard boxes full of his stuff.

Everything looked the exact same.

Well, almost, Jason realized, as he saw that the food containers and water bottles were gone. But other than that, it looked the same as the day he left it. Same striped green, gray, and black comforter, with the gray streets. Same posters on the white walls of rock bands, motorcycles, and race cars.

It was weird.

His bed was a twin sized one, and it was pushed up against the far wall from the door. It seemed way too small now. A window overlooked the street, except the blinds were shut. The sheets were still made in that half-assed way he had last done them. A book was on the bed, and Jason realized it was the one Rickie had bought him for his school project.

He never got the chance to complete it.

A wave of emotion suddenly made everything seem unsteady, and Jason leaned on the doorway. He looked at the tan carpet, or tried to. Clothes, his clothes, were scattered on the floor, while a tall blue laundry basket lay tipped over at the foot of his bed.

The nightstand next to his bed still had that crappy lamp on it, the cord no longer plugged into the outlet. To his right lay his desk, and Jason blinked at seeing the school papers still scattered on it. Next to the desk was a closet, and Jason knew that on the shelf in the closet was a space barely big enough for the duffel bag full of his old Robin stuff.

Walking towards it, the dark wood made a grinding noise as he slid it open. His eyes became suspiciously wet at seeing the duffel bag still there. It must be all the dust in the room. Yeah, that was it. All the stupid dust. His converse lay with his sneakers, and combat boots next to the dresser. The cord for the lamp lay on top of them.

He closed the closet door, briefly noting all his old, oversized sweatshirts that were in it. Jason had always purposely got some big, stating that he'd grow into them. A few he did, and those ones seemed so tiny to him now, resting on hangers in the closet.

The room was almost like he had never left.

Jason leaned against the closet door, and sunk to the floor. Why? Why had she kept all this stuff? Hot, angry tears burned his face. It wasn't fair. What the Joker did wasn't fair. All of this . . . It never occurred to Jason just how much of his life he never got to live, or just how much he missed.

All this stuff from when he was fourteen . . . It seemed unreal, like from another person's life. Technically, it was. It was from his life, Jason Todd's life before the Joker blew him up in that warehouse. The unfairness of it all made Jason's face twist into a pained expression as more tears went down his face.

It would've been easier if she packed all this stuff up like he never mattered. He could stay angry at her like he'd been only hours before, like he still was at everyone else. But all of this was virtually untouched.

He felt ridiculous, like a little toddler throwing a tantrum about leaving a fair before getting ice cream. It wasn't fair. Jason held his head in his hands. Crying about what he lost wasn't doing him any good. But he'd never really given thought to what he lost. It had never seemed real to him, until he saw this old room that was _his_ old room.

Why him? Why did he die? Why couldn't have Bruce killed that bastard clown before he died? Or even after? Why let another person become Robin?

A thought struck him as he recalled the other door that led to the other guest room. An Einstein poster had been on it. That definitely had not been there five, six years ago. Replacement. A scowl took over Jason's features as he realized that Tim must've claimed that room. Come to Rickie for advice. A helping hand. Another flash of emotion went through Jason.

It took him a moment to realize it was jealousy. She had been his sister alone. They - Bruce, Alfred, Rickie, and him - had been one messed up, perfectly broken little family.

Angrily, he pushed it aside, along with the sadness. He shouldn't have come here. He was a perfectly fine homicidal maniac before . . . before running into Rickie again. Who did she think she was, making him feel sappy emotions again?

 _Your sister,_ a nagging voice in Jason's mind answered. He told it to shut up.

Standing up, Jason took a deep breath, brushing off some of the dust on his jacket. He picked up his Red Hood helmet that he hadn't realized he had until now. Wow. He must be out of it. Walking down the hall, Jason paused for a fraction of a second in front of Einstein.

A part of him was oh-so-tempted to.

Then he shook his head, climbing quietly out the window onto the fire escape. It was almost dawn. He had to get back, and didn't need to investigate the Replacement's room. What he knew about the kid from Rickie babysitting him was enough.

Tim was an annoying kid two years younger than Jason. End of story. The last thing he needed to do was like the kid, or heaven forbid, actually start to care about him. As for the little demon brat, it seemed they've come to a truce. For now.

Jason found his motorcycle hidden in the spot where he parked it before entering the warehouse, starting this whole thing. The morning air was cool, and the first rays of pink tinged the horizon. Taking a breath, he closed his eyes. Cool air filled his lungs, and Jason could feel that something had shifted inside him by seeing Rickie again.

He felt . . . whole, for the first time in a long while. It wasn't an entirely bad feeling, and even if Jason was a little annoyed at Rickie for her talk, he was grateful for her talk, too. But there was an uneasy feeling inside him that he couldn't pinpoint, and it made him nervous.

Jason sighed, running his hand through his hair.

Whatever it was, he'd figure out later, but for the moment, he enjoyed the brief sense of peace that went through him in the early morning hours of Bludhaven before the city came alive. Getting on his motorcycle, Jason slid on his helmet, putting his Red Hood helmet under his seat. The last thing he needed was to get busted by a highway patrol car.

Hopefully, despite the combat boots and cargo pants, anybody who saw him would assume he was some biker with a logo on a black shirt. His brown leather jacket should keep anyone from getting a clear image of the red bat logo. And his guns, but those were hidden enough and he should be going fast enough that Jason wasn't worried about anyone seeing them.

It was his Red Hood symbol that marked him, along with the red helmet, but with his helmet hidden, and his red bat symbol hidden, he should be fine.

A thought struck as he realized this was the longest he had both helmet and domino mask off in a while, and it was . . . nice. Shaking his head, Jason cleared his thoughts. He couldn't be going soft. He was the Red Hood. If he went all soft and philosophical and mushy his enemies would kill him.

The motorcycle roared as it came to life, the sound shattering the silence, and relaxing him. Jason Todd sped off to Gotham.

* * *

 **And done. Review, let me know what you think.**


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